


& if you are a deity of any sort, then please don't go

by piketrickfoot



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Pining!Baz, aka the one where baz kisses simon first, mild canonical suicide attempt? a little bit it's the fire scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:15:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9144607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piketrickfoot/pseuds/piketrickfoot
Summary: As far as Baz was concerned, he was already on fire. He'd imagined this a thousand times in a thousand different ways— soft and lingering in the wavering wood at nightfall; rough and wild, a seamless segue from some petty, half-staged fight in their room; desperate and final, in the end when Snow finally, finally ended Baz.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "don't leave me (ne me quitte pas)" by regina spektor. chapter 61 rewrite.

BAZ 

_I just want to kiss him, then go._

"Simon..." Baz said, shifting, eyeing the fire that lurched ever-closer. He leaned forward. Simon— because he was Simon, now, Baz had been kidding himself calling him Snow all those years, like that could distance him from the truth— was looking at him wide-eyed, eyebrows raised in shock. Baz could tell he was saying something, because his mouth was moving, but his head was cloudy and the fire roared in his ears and he couldn't pick up a word Simon was saying. 

_I just want to kiss him, then go._

Baz leaned forward. He lifted his hand to cup Simon's cheek, and Simon leaned into his touch. Baz ached with it, the wanting, the knowledge that this was all he'd ever get. His eyes wandered down to Simon's lips, parted ever-so-slightly. 

Baz threaded the fingers of his other hand through Simon's golden curls and tugged him closer. 

_I just want to kiss him, then go._

As far as Baz was concerned, he was already on fire. He'd imagined this a thousand times in a thousand different ways— soft and lingering in the wavering wood at nightfall; rough and wild, a seamless segue from some petty, half-staged fight in their room; desperate and final, in the end when Snow finally, finally ended Baz. 

It had never been like this. This was Simon's heart, thudding in his chest, pressed so tight against Baz's that he could hear it. It was Simon's teeth scraping against Baz's lower lip, Simon's hands resting low on Baz's hips, Baz whining against Simon's mouth because oh. Simon was kissing him back. Simon Snow is kissing me back. 

_Aleister Crowley, I lead a charmed life._

Baz broke the kiss, and Simon sat back, looking at him, face unreadable. A part of him, the part that was still giddy over having kissed Simon Snow, over Simon Snow having kissed him, wanted to dispel the fire immediately, wanted to- 

The fire. Crowley. Baz hazarded a glance and was immediately gripped with horror because the fire was right there, upon them now, and Baz's death wouldn't be a tragedy but he could not be responsible for Simon's. 

"Snow, get out of here," he snarled, trying to act as he always did, even in spite of what he'd just done— what they'd just done. Simon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and shook his head. Baz sighed at him. 

**"On love's light wings!"** Baz shouted. He pressed his hands to Simon's chest and shoved. Simon flew a good fifty feet before the spell lowered him gently to the ground. 

Baz smiled and closed his eyes. 

SIMON

Simon hit the ground more gently than he expected. Still, for a few seconds he found himself too dazed to move. 

He didn't know what to think. He didn't understand. Baz had kissed him. Baz had kissed him and he had kissed back. He didn't know what that meant, and he didn't know what it meant that- 

Baz. Baz was going to burn himself alive. Baz had kissed him, and now he was going to die. 

_Not this time, you damned plotting bastard._

Simon leapt to his feet, immediately focusing in on the fire. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, only that he couldn't let Baz do this over what he thought his mother would want. 

Simon thought about the softness in Baz's voice when he'd said Simon's name just before the kiss, about Baz's fingers tugging at his curls just so, about the horror in Baz's stormy gray eyes when he remembered the fire. 

If this is what Baz's mother would have wanted, fuck her. 

"Baz!" Simon shouted, taking off at a run towards the fire, hoping to God it hadn't reached Baz yet. As he drew closer he could see Baz, the epicenter of it all, flames licking dangerously close to his palms. Simon closed his eyes. He could feel his magic singing under his skin, in his veins, on his tongue. 

**"Let me through!"** he shouted, and it wasn't a spell but the flames parted, fell back around him as he leapt through the charred underbrush to get to Baz. Baz, who had looked almost peaceful, the fucker, opened his eyes, then. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he scrabbled to his feet. 

"Si- Snow, I told you- as you were," the flames flickered out, then, all at once, "I told you to let me go." He sounded almost bitter. 

Simon crossed his arms. "You can't kiss me and then kill yourself, Baz. That isn't how this works." Simon gestured between them. Baz let his gaze drop to the ground between them, and Simon felt a pang at how vulnerable he looked in that moment. 

Baz was three inches taller than him and loved to remind him of that, but Simon still managed to command the situation. He leaned down so he was back in Baz's line of sight. 

"Hey, look at me," he said. Baz looked at him. He straightened back up. 

"Baz?"

Baz sighed. "Get it over with, Snow. I'm not suddenly made of glass. You're not interes-"

BAZ

_And then he kisses me._

It's different from before, somehow more relaxed and more intense all at once, like everything they've been since first year had lead up to this, and at least on Baz's part it had. He was so, so fucked. He had been since forever. 

Simon was backing him against the tree he'd nearly made into a headstone not a minute earlier, and the back of his head hit the wood with a soft clunk. Really, Baz thought, this wasn't all that different from the fire. 

Either it would have ruined him tonight, or Simon's mouth would. Baz didn't see much of a distinction.


End file.
